Pushing to my feet, I smear soot and tears from my cheeks, looking around in desperation.
Plan, plan, need a new plan.
Everything is loud, wood and metal groaning and hissing. I start moving again, searching for a weak point in the walls or rolling bay doors. Sweat runs down my neck and my eyes burn from the fumes coming off the flames. Everything is too hot. I feel as if I’m being cooked alive.
Probably because I am.
Something cracks ominously and my gaze flies up.
A scream rips my throat raw as another part of the roof caves in.
I’m sorry, Wren.
I lo—
Thirty-Five
Wren
It’s a good thing my goddamn hunches are always right. I had a feeling Rowan would defy me and choose recklessness anyway, because that’s what my curious, vengeful little kitten does.
She wasn’t there when I got back from taking Isla home, fresh coffee brewed the way she likes it and a bag of sandwiches in hand. Colton said she came out for a minute, but said she needed to lay down. He was confused until we both heard the replay of the news livestream. He swore, but I didn’t wait around, barking orders to search for her. I could ring his neck for his carelessness, but there wasn’t time—I needed to get to where I knew she was headed.
The shipyard.
I curse that defiant streak I’m so addicted to in her when it could spell her death. I will not lose her.
Everything is in chaos when I arrive. No sirens yet, so either no one’s noticed, or it hasn’t been long enough.
I don’t spare a minute, throwing myself into the fray of flames and smoke billowing into the clear starry sky. Half the Stalenko Corp men scurrying around are hosing down their product, but it’s too late. Everything is charred, melted, singed to a goddamn crisp, the awful fumes stinking up the sea air.
Later I’ll have time to be impressed at Rowan’s ingenuity and latent skill for arson. After I make sure she’s safe, then ensure she never disobeys an order like this again. I have to find her.
“Rowan!”
My yell draws the wrong attention. Growling, I aim my gun and squeeze the trigger with zero regard for these pissants in my way. Nothing will stand between me and my fierce girl.
Two men go down with my bullets in their skulls. Another clutches his neck to stop the spray of blood, eyes bulged as he falls to his knees before me.
“Where is she?” The demand is a feral snarl.
He spits at my feet. “You’re too late. Your little bitch should be dead by now.”
“Oh, my friend.” My humorless grin is savage and promises pain. “That was the wrong thing to say.”
Ripping his hand from the graze wound on his neck, I wrap my fingers around his throat and jam my gun to his groin. I don’t have time for anything more elaborate.
“No—No!”
“Too late.” I pull the trigger twice for good measure.
The man’s shrieks of agony bring little satisfaction. Releasing him with a shove, I search for Rowan. She’s not outside. My gaze shifts to the warehouse. It doesn’t look like it has long before it collapses.
A wall of flames encircles the whole damn thing. I have no choice but to grit my teeth and run into the fire. A flash of searing pain makes me grunt as I do my best to shield my face. Keep moving, I have to keep moving.
If I stand still, then I’m dead. If I’m dead, she’s dead and that is not fucking happening.
Once I’m on the other side, I find the way into the building.
The sound of her scream, so full of fear and anguish, tells me where to go. It guts me, but I’m almost there.
The fucking roof caves in on one side and I duck with a grunt, not stopping until I find her. Around the next row of crates, she’s there and my heart splinters.
“Rowan!” I bark, grabbing her. She cries out in pain and I let go of the singed fabric at her shoulder. “Shit. Look at me.”
Blinking, she focuses on me and her eyes go round. “You’re here.”
She sounds as if she can’t believe it.
“Of course I am.” My hands pass over her quickly, checking for other injuries. “We have to get the hell out of here.”
“I’m sorry.” She hugs me, squeezing heartbreakingly tight. “I just wanted—”
“I know. Later.” After I get her to safety. “Now, are you going to let me help you?” Her head bobs against my chest. “Good. Don’t do anything but what I tell you to, understand?”
I don’t wait for her to agree. We’re both lucky the flames haven’t moved to devour the whole building yet. It gives me enough time to release the clip and check how many bullets are in my magazine before reloading my gun.
There’s something in the way she watches that twists my insides. She made a mistake acting alone, but now that I’m here we can face this problem together.
I hand a smaller gun holstered at my ankle to her. “We’re doing this together. I’ll protect you. You have my back?”
Her eyes shine as she accepts it. “Yes.”
She doesn’t have to do anything—I could get us out of this alone, but I give up some control to her. She needs this. Now she doesn’t have to do it by herself.
The burned skin on my arm and the back of my neck throbs as we go back the way I came in. I keep her close behind me, shielding her from danger. The hole I made in the wall of fire is minimal, the flames seeking to close us back in. We have to be fast.
Turning to her, I clasp the side of her jaw. “Almost home free, baby. This part is hard. It’s the only exit point and it might hurt. Once we’re past this, then we’re out of the fire, but we’re probably running right into a gunfight with these guys.”
Rowan’s overwhelmed gaze shifts from the fire at my back to me. Pursing her mouth in determination, she nods.
“Brave girl.” I kiss her. “Don’t stop and don’t let go. Keep your head down, fire at anyone who wants to kill us, and stay close behind me.”
Facing the flames once more, I take her hand and we run. Sweat beads at my temples and my lungs burn. For her, I can’t stop. Not until I get her out. She yelps as the heat surrounds us. The white-hot blaze presses in on all sides. It agitates the burns I got coming in, but it’s over in moments once we’re outside.
“Left!” Rowan squeezes my hand.
A man charges us and I give myself over to the ever present need to dominate the situation. Everything empties from my mind except for cold calculation. Two shots to the chest and head put the guy on his back.
Rowan looks at me in awe, not judging the monster but embracing him.
A brutal spark of pleasure flares to life.
My precision is deadly as I take down anyone in our path to escape. She fires off a few shots at the guys who come around the warehouse from behind. We leave the fire and devastation in our wake until we reach the car.
She pauses, taking in the broken boom gate and the busted headlight on the SUV. “Did you drive through that?”
“A gate wasn’t keeping me from saving your ass from this little suicide mission.” I open the passenger door and lift her inside.
“Suicide.” She bites her lip and nods, turning her face to her lap. “I thought I was going to die. It was stupid. And you still came for me?”
I pull Rowan into a fast, demanding kiss. My fingers clench in her hair to keep her near, the thought of any inch separating us unbearable. She leans into me as if she feels the same after what she went through tonight.
“Because a king always comes for his queen. Even the reckless ones.”
Thirty-Six
Wren
We drive to the only place where I can guarantee her safety—the house I really live in. The white and gray stone two-story cottage is tucked away on a private path that connects to the Crow’s Nest property. Another path leads up to the shooting range. The porch light flickers on when I lead Rowan to the door.
She stares at the Adirondack chairs Jude and I smoke cigars from. “W
here are we?”
I wait for the twist of distrust, but the tension never comes. I trust her wholeheartedly. A huff of surprise jerks my head.
“This is my house—my real one,” I say when she parts her lips to sate her endless curiosity. “Remember when we went to the shooting range?”
“Yeah.”
“And that tree you pointed out with the gnarled knot?”
Another slow nod. “The one that looked like a wrinkled ballsac.”
The corner of my mouth quirks up. “If you’d followed in that direction you’d reach this house in less than five minutes.”
Unlocking the door, I bustle her inside, flicking on lights as we go. The burns on my neck and arm tug annoyingly, demanding my attention now that we’re out of danger. I also need to check her more thoroughly to ensure she wasn’t hurt.
In the kitchen, I sit her down and grab a first aid kit from a cabinet. I grimace as I shrug out of my jacket, scowling at the superficial burn irritating the back of my wrist.
“This is…” Rowan hesitates, peering around. “Nice. Really cozy. And the total opposite of what I’d picture for someone like you.”
I’m not aware I’m holding my breath until she finishes. Warmth stirs in me at knowing she likes it here.
“Don’t let that hideous penthouse or the empty room at the Nest fool you, kitten. I’m a man of comfort. I appreciate the solitude out here.”
A smile tugs at her lips and she takes the antiseptic wipe from me to gently clean my burned arm. The gesture winds around my heart.
“I told you not to go on your own,” I say sternly.
“I know.” She bows her head over her task, angling my arm to coat it with ointment. “I’m sorry. I was totally out of my head with anger.” After bandaging my injury, she focuses on my hand, fitting her splayed palm against mine. “You were right. It was reckless suicide. I just—I couldn’t stand the thought of what they did to him. I should have let you help me instead of trying to do it all on my own.”
I soften when her voice breaks, the admission costing her. Tucking her hair back, I murmur, “If you wanted to burn the world down, I would have done it for you. All you had to do was ask.”
She snorts and rests her head against mine. “That’s romantic, but kinda fucked up, King Crow.”
“I’m serious. I’d do anything for you.” I lift her from her seat and set her on the wood table so I can stand between her legs and have her mouth at kissing level. The need to keep her in my arms is potent. “Now let me take care of you.”
“Yessir,” she sasses in a husky tone.
I take her face in both hands and kiss her deeply, restoring every empty hole in my chest with the feeling of being with her. I could have lost her tonight. If I had, it might have destroyed me worse than anything has in my life. It’s so unthinkable that my grip tightens on her, not letting up until she emits a faint sound.
Not only do I want to protect her, she’s done the impossible by worming her way into my heart—a dead, unfeeling carcass that hasn’t beat for any woman in my life after my sister died and my mother drank herself into the bottom of a pill bottle.
I take my time examining her, running my fingers all over her body. Her eyelids droop and she murmurs where it hurts, tempting me with directions to touch her where it’ll make her sigh in pleasure. She squirms when I stop palming her breast to peel back the singed flannel fabric at her shoulder.
“That’s not where I said,” she hisses, grabbing on to me to weather the pain.
“I have to clean and bandage this. Stay still.”
Rowan grumbles under her breath, but sits through the process. Her shoulder is burned, but not much worse than mine. The large bruise is likely to hurt worse judging by the way it makes her gasp uncomfortably when I prod around her skin.
“Consider the pain right now your punishment.”
“Not going to spank me for being a brat?” she pushes out through her teeth.
I smirk. “Not while you’re injured. After that? Absolutely. The lesson didn’t stick last time.”
Heat flares in her eyes. After I bandage her up, I caress her soot-smudged cheek. She turns into it, lips brushing my palm. I pack up the kit and get her some water to wash down painkillers with.
“The things we do for them don’t help,” I say.
Her brows pinch. “What do you mean?”
“My sister. I never told you the full story.” Familiar heaviness weighs me down, yet it’s not as potent as usual. Rowan threads her fingers with mine. “She was so young. You remind me of her, the spirit she had.” My brief smile fades and my tone hardens with hatred. “She had this teacher at the junior academy, Coleman. He was a sick fuck that preyed on her. His manipulation and grooming tore her apart.”
Rowan gasps and wraps her arm around me, tucking our joined hands between us.
The locket sits in my pocket, but I leave it there rather than disentangle from her comforting embrace.
“Losing Charlotte was devastating. I lost my way for a long time, driven only by the goal of seeking revenge. It took me two years of searching after Coleman fled town.”
“What did you do?”
“Made him hurt for every pain he caused my sister.” Her arm tightens around me. “I tore him apart piece by piece until he begged for mercy that wasn’t coming.” I pause, sweeping my palms down her back. She presses closer. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“No,” Rowan murmurs. “You make me feel safe.”
A rumble rolls through me and I tuck her head against my shoulder.
“My point to all this is that even though I sought revenge, it didn’t bring her back. I still miss her.”
“I’d do it again.” When I tense, she hurries to continue. “I meant with your help. For Ethan. I know it wouldn’t bring him back, but the people who killed him are bad.”
I nod in understanding. “Coleman deserved to die.”
The moment is interrupted by the growl of her stomach. She covers it with a hand.
“I never got to give you the sandwiches and coffee I went out for.”
“Is there food here?”
I hum, moving around the kitchen to throw together a quick meal, grabbing bread, some fruit from the refrigerator, and cheese. I break off a hunk of fine aged cheddar to feed to her. She groans in appreciation for the flavor. In minutes, she polishes off half the meal. It’s the first time her appetite has returned in days.
This place has always been my sanctuary. With Rowan in it, it feels more complete.
“I’ve taken many choices from you, but I’m going to leave one in your hands this time.”
She lifts her head and gives me a crooked smile. “What’s that?”
“I want you to stay with me. Here, at my real home. Not just for your protection, but…” I trace the curve of her jaw. “You invaded my heart. No one has ever done that. I want you to stay here because I always protect what I love.”
She releases a shaky breath. “Wren.”
“Be my queen, Rowan.”
Thirty-Seven
Rowan
Hearing Wren’s ardent words touches a deep part of my soul. Tender warmth courses through me, winding around me like a hug.
I see what I was afraid of before, how much I’ve isolated myself with my excuse of independence to soften the blow that I couldn’t handle letting people in. But around him, he allows me to be vulnerable and still knows I’m strong.
When I needed him, he came, then still allowed me to fight with him by his side.
“You have my heart,” I murmur. “You can’t get rid of me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Smiling, he draws me close for another kiss. “Good choice, because if you said no, I might have taken drastic measures.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Psycho.”
The word is laced with affection.
“As much as I want to remind you who you belong to, I have to call the guys and let them know you’re safe. Go look around, I kno
w you’re dying to by the way you keep peeking everywhere.”
Wren steps back and I hop down from the table to explore. The cozy vibe continues throughout the house. Amidst the inviting rooms, I find little touches of Wren that make me bite my lip around a smile. I end up in the living room looking at a framed photo of Wren and a girl who must be his sister.
While I listen to his deep murmuring tone in the other room, I pull out my phone and take a fortifying breath. There’s no more putting this conversation off and I want to hear Mom’s voice. I press the call button and pace the living room.
“Rowan? Is everything okay?”
Her voice is groggy and on edge. Crap, I didn’t think about how alarming a late night call after days of silence would be.
“Sorry, I know it’s late. I just, um, wanted to say hi. I miss you and I wanted to hear your voice. See how you were holding up.”
“That’s okay, sweetheart. You can always call me, anytime of day.” It sounds like she’s sitting up in bed, murmuring to the dog. “It’s good to hear your voice, too. I love you so much.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I love you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner about Ethan. He was m-missing.” I clear my throat. “I was scared. I didn’t think—”
The line goes silent for a moment except for an audible sniffle when I break off. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I know, my darling. I know.” Mom’s exhale is full of the same grief I drowned in for the last week. “One day at a time, okay? We choose happiness. We choose to think of the good memories.”
Mom is so strong when she doesn’t have to be. No one would blame her for breaking. She’s lost her husband and her son.
The confession I should have told her years ago spills from me.
“Mom… I never knew how to tell you this.” She doesn’t interrupt, listening with the patience of a saint. I bite back a curse again for keeping her in the dark. “The night of the accident. I snuck out and when Dad found out, he came to get me. We were arguing. It—It was all my fault. I’m sorry.”
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